By Dr. Frances Murphy Draper
AFRO CEO and Publisher
A name that meant progress—and what it means to take it back
Last year, when the U.S. Army renamed Virginia’s Fort Lee to Fort Gregg-Adams, it marked a long-overdue step in the right direction. The base, once named for a Confederate general, now honored two groundbreaking Black military leaders: Lt. Gen. Arthur Gregg, a logistics expert who rose to the highest ranks, and Lt. Col. Charity Adams, commander of the 6888th Central Postal Directory Battalion—the only all-Black, all-female unit deployed overseas during World War II.
This was more than a name change. It was a long-awaited recognition of service, sacrifice, and excellence in the face of racism and exclusion. For Black America—especially for Black women who’ve long been left out of the spotlight—it felt like something sacred had finally been seen.
But on June 16, 2025, that honor was revoked. Under the current administration, the base was quietly renamed Fort Lee once again—this time in honor of Private Fitz Lee, a Black Buffalo Soldier and Medal of Honor recipient. While Fitz Lee’s bravery deserves remembrance, the decision to erase Gregg and Adams—two high-ranking, history-making figures—is not just a reshuffling of military tradition. It’s a signal. A rollback. A retreat.
We should not have to choose which Black heroes deserve to be remembered. This should not be an either-or. The fact that it has become one is telling.
The power of a name—and the danger of erasure
In a year when DEI offices are being closed, race-conscious college programs are being dismantled, and books by Black authors are being stripped from school shelves, the Fort Gregg-Adams reversal feels like more than a single decision. It feels like part of a pattern—one aimed at erasing our progress, our power, and our presence.
Symbols matter. Names matter. That’s why Confederate monuments were challenged. That’s why we cheered when the names of oppressors were replaced with names of those who served and uplifted. And that’s why this reversal should concern us all.
This isn’t just about military bases—it’s about the soul of the nation’s memory.
What Douglass would remind us
More than 170 years ago, Frederick Douglass—who used his pen and voice like a weapon of truth—asked this powerful question:
“What, to the American slave, is your Fourth of July?”
He did not reject the holiday outright. Instead, he rejected the hollow celebration of freedom in a nation where millions remained unfree. He held up a mirror to America’s contradictions—not to condemn the idea of liberty, but to call the country to live up to it.
Douglass would likely see the events of this year—the dismantling of DEI, the attacks on truth-telling in education, the reversal of progress at places like Fort Gregg-Adams—as a dangerous attempt to sanitize history rather than confront it. He would not be silent. And neither should we.
The women of the 6888th deserve more
Let us not forget: Lt. Col. Charity Adams led over 800 Black women soldiers who processed and delivered millions of pieces of mail during the war—keeping hope alive for soldiers far from home. They worked under extreme pressure, faced discrimination within the military, and still completed their mission in record time.
These women didn’t just sort letters. They built morale. They built legacy.
Removing Adams’s name erases far more than history—it erases dignity earned through service.
The Black Press still matters
In this same season, we are also witnessing a troubling retreat from support for the Black press—institutions that have long served as the conscience of our communities. For more than a century, Black-owned newspapers like the AFRO have documented what mainstream media ignored, challenged injustice, and uplifted voices too often silenced. But today, both public funding and private sector advertising dollars are shifting away from community-based journalism. If this trend continues, we risk losing not just a business—but a vital part of our civic fabric.
This is not about saving an industry. It’s about saving a truth-telling tradition. If the Fourth of July is to mean anything for all Americans, then the platforms that tell our stories must be protected—not erased.
This Independence Day, let’s tell the whole story
At the AFRO, we’ve never been afraid to tell the full truth—not just the parts that make America feel good, but the parts that push it to be better.
So this 4th of July, while the fireworks flash and the flags wave, I invite you to reflect not just on where we’ve been—but on what is being undone right now.
• We must remember why the renaming of Fort Gregg-Adams mattered in the first place.
• We must resist the quiet unraveling of equity under the name of neutrality.
• We must teach our children about Gregg, Adams, and the 6888th, even when their names are removed from the buildings.
• We must carry on the tradition of Douglass—not just asking hard questions, but demanding better answers.
Freedom must include us all
We are still here. We are still rising. And we are still naming what matters.
Until freedom fully includes Black women, Black immigrants, Black soldiers, Black teachers, Black storytellers, and every Black life across this nation—our independence is unfinished business.
Let this Fourth of July not be a moment of silence—but a moment of renewed commitment.
Because we deserve more than symbols.
We deserve to be seen, heard, remembered—and never erased.
Great Job Frances Toni Draper AFRO Publisher & the Team @ AFRO American Newspapers Source link for sharing this story.
